


The Angel Watches

by fuckyatta



Series: The Ghost Watches [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, Incest, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 17:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12586756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyatta/pseuds/fuckyatta
Summary: Angela witnesses something private.Afterwards, she wants to watch.





	The Angel Watches

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE READING
> 
> Happy Halloween! I wrote the scariest thing I could come up with; Incest.
> 
> Unfortunately my computer crashed and I had to rewrite a huge chunk again, and ended up rushing trying to get this out to you guys before Halloween ended, hope you still like it! Decided to keep this out of Menagerie, even though it is a one shot, simply because I know I have readers who don't wish to associate at all with my incestual writings, and I totally get that.

Rarely did Overwatch manage to squeeze in the time to throw parties. In its heyday they'd atleast acknowledge the holidays, have a few decorations skewed around the base, but now with Talon breathing down their necks and most operatives disappeared off the face of the earth, it was hard to make room for it, less so have enough people there to appreciate the effort. 

But with Ana back things seem relaxed. Her and Fareeha's reunion had been tense, but now the two are attached to the hip, Fareeha following her mother around like when she was younger, big brown eyes looking up to her in adoration. And the rest of the what remains of her old crew were belated for her return, lit a hopeful burning in their hearts, perhaps that is why Overwatch had the energy to throw a party for Halloween. 

For the occasion, some older members dressed in their old costumes the last Halloween they spent with Ana. Mccree is lounging on the couch with the Amari's, hat tipped down no way hiding his flustered expression and his knife point boots kicked up on the coffee table as he attempts to drunkenly flirt with Ana. Ana herself seems to be humoring him, perhaps a bit tipsy herself as she leans against him. Both her and Fareeha wore matching costumes, Ana as a pirate captain and her daughter playing to role as one of her shipmates. 

Angela has a hard time not staring at them. Ana is looking rather handsome in her cape and messy braid, and Angela is sure she's got caught staring at Fareeha's plunging neckline. She herself is wearing her old witch costume, which Ana would rip off of her back in the day. Now she won't even look at her, even though her thigh highs look so good on her, and she spends the entire party moping at the makeshift bar. Morrison plays the roll of bartender in his daredevil suit, didn't ask questions when Angela kept asking for refills. 

Her vision is blurry in her drunken stupor, but from bar she sees Fareeha looking at Jesse and Ana, seemingly upset. Angela doesn't question it until Ana turns to her daughter with a smile, leans over and whispers something in her ear that makes Fareeha's cheeks light up. She's sheepish now, hand reaching out to play with the fabric of Ana's cape. She nods, and Angela can't hear it but it looks like Ana laughs, Fareeha seemingly turning redder by the second. Then the two are standing up, Jesse not having noticed the exchange that went on before him, a look of disappointed clear on his face as the two walked out of the room hand in hand. 

Perhaps its the tipsiness talking, but the way Ana looks at her daughter goes beyond a familial bond, as well as Fareeha lack of eye contact. Angela waits a moment after the two leave the room before she follows them. She's curious, alright? Sure it was getting late into the night, but they are the first to leave, and together too.

Reinhardt's boisterous laughter booms past the doors as Angela sneaks out of the party. The hallway in front of her is barren, so she wanders. Briefly she thinks of the hangover she'll have in the morning, subconsciously her feet make it to the communal kitchen for a glass of water. For a few moments its quiet, she leans against the counter and simply thinks, thinks about returning back to the party, that following the Amari's was an invasion of privacy and honestly pitiful. She's about to go back when she hears movement. She tenses, sure that she herself hadn't been followed, and she looks around for the noise's location. Pinpointing it to the walk in pantry, Angela hesitates, braces herself for whats inside before swinging the door open. 

Either the pirate captain was plundering for treasure in her cabin boy's trousers, or Ana Amari was fucking her daughter, Angela presumed it was the latter. A hand was cupped over Fareeha's mouth, spit dripping down her chin, and the two looked to Angela with wide eyes, and assuming by the way Fareeha's hips still stuttered, hands braced to the shelves behind her, the hand in her pants still moved within her. 

Angela was hit with what could only be considered horny whiplash. She blinks hard, attempting to process if what she's seeing is really happening. A long handful of seconds pass of the three staring at one another. Fareeha looks as though she's about to pass out, but Ana just smiles at their intruder.

"Would you mind giving us some privacy, Angela?"

A pause. "This is the pantry." 

"Angela." Ana is terse, voice scolding. Her arm shifts, and Fareeha's eyes shut tight, heated embarrassment blooming across her cheeks as she moans out loud, noise muffled by the hand at her mouth. 

Angela's mouth waters as her gaze shifts downwards to Fareeha's shaking thighs clamped together, hips desperately trying to remain still. Her eyes shoot up when Ana clears her throat, looking back and Angela with a hawk's perception. "Right, my apologies." Shutting the door, Angela makes her way to her private quarters, heat pooling between her legs and mouth dry. Was it wrong she's fantasized about this before?

Like, specifically the pirate thing?

Ever since joining the organization she's been captivated with the Amari's. First was Ana, who humored her puppy crush, pulled on her heart strings and played with her until she got bored. Then she disappeared and Fareeha grew up and wow, she resembled her mother, strong physique and beautifully dark skin. She was awkward but endearingly so, and Angela fell in love with her the same way she did her mother, though Fareeha never seemed to catch on to her interest. She supposed that made sense, now. 

On lonely nights Angela would think about them with a hand gripping the sheets and the other deep inside herself. Some nights she would think about Ana, others she'd think of Fareeha, and some shameful nights she thought of both. At first it was just the two of them on her at once, two pairs of hands teasing her quaking body, but then it delved into something taboo. The two exploring each other, mother and daughter reveling in each others bodies and basking in the afterglow. Angela came far too many times thinking of it, tonight would be no different. How long have the two been secretly seeing one another? Since Ana came back? Before that? 

Whatever the case may be, Angela absorbed the scene she had witnessed like a sponge, savoring in the small noise she got to hear from Fareeha, the shaking of her legs, and Ana's casualness of it all. By the time she made it back to her quarters she didn't waste any time removing her costume, instead simply pushing her panties to the side and fucking herself with three fingers, her witch's hat drooping down over her face as she bites down on one knuckle to suppress her whines.

Needless to say, things between the three became more tense than it already was. Ana already doesn't speak with her after she tried to intervene between a familial issue, now she won't even look at her, same with Fareeha, who actively avoids her and comes up with an excuse to ditch her weekly check ups. Angela tries not talking it personally, but it's hard. And guilt rises in her throat from the continuous nights of fantasizing of the two together. It lingers in the back of her mind, at night in her bed or alone in her office, even when attending meetings, thighs pressed together in a desperate attempt to sate her inappropriately timed arousal. 

It becomes increasingly worrisome when Fareeha rallies up a group for a recon mission in Cape Town, rumors of an old omnium being used for meetings of a notorious drug trafficking cartel ran by the very same omnics who were built there, and she hadn't been picked for their primary healer. Fareeha always made room of her on missions, just in case she needed aerial back up. She hadn't even been told of the mission, only knowing when she had asked Lena where some on base operative had gone off to. Did Fareeha really want nothing to do with her? 

Her nerves ease when Zenyatta arrives for his check up one afternoon. Idly he plays a soft melody with his orbs as she does a routine check of his joints, though her anxious aura does not go unnoticed by the astute monk.

"Is something bothering you, Angela?"

She supposed there was no use lying to him, at least to a degree. "Fareeha is avoiding me."

He nods. "And do you know why?"

Angela brushes stray hairs away from her face, her gaze fixing to a info graphic poster on the wall as she mulls over what she should say. "I walked in on something...private."

He hums, considering, and it's quiet for a time before he speaks once more. "Waiting for a problem to fix itself is sometimes not the answer. Preliminary action is a necessity if a solution is what you seek."

Zenyatta always had a way of making a simple piece of advice far more convoluted than needed. Still Angela smiles. "Thank you Zenyatta, I will do that."

A metallic hand raises, concluding that he is not finished. "I suspect that there is something else on your mind that you don't wish to share. I suggest that quenching your curiosity first hand would help significantly with what vexes you."

Taken aback, Angela hesitates before thanking him again. Her mind swarms with scenarios as she drones through the rest of Zenyatta's check up in silence. The monk leaves after, leaving Angela alone with her thoughts. Fareeha wouldn't return for the next few days, but Ana was pardoned from the mission. 

Which leads her to Ana's quarters late into the evening. Angela is a bundle of nerves, rocking on her heels, and she feels twenty again, the new recruit with a crush on her captain seeking approval. She stands there for a few good minutes, considered the words she wishes to say, but it all melts to mush after she knocks, and language all but seeps out of her mind when the door opens and Ana gives her a questioning look. 

Angela wishes Ana would speak first, but she doesn't, waits patiently for whatever she needs to say, or perhaps is still giving her the cold shoulder. Whichever one, Angela stares stupidly down at the woman, mouth dry. Before the situation can get any more awkward, Angela forces words to come out her mouth. 

"You and Fareeha are avoiding me." 

Ana raises an eyebrow, still she does not speak. Angela fidgets with the name tag attached to her lab coat, forgot to remove it before coming here, makes her feel silly and worsens her anxious nerves.

Angela clears her throat before speaking again. "I...interrupted something private, but I don't think that warrants shunning me."

"You followed us there." Ana accuses, clearly her patience is running thin.

"Maybe I did! But I didn't," Angela lowers her voice to a whisper. "I didn't think that...that's what you'd be doing." Angela's nervous ticks increase tenfold, bouncing on the balls of her feet, hands brushing down her coat a multitude of times. "I didn't know of your...relationship until that night, I promise. And I have no intentions of spilling it to anyone." 

The older woman leans against the door frame, arms crossed. A palpable strain fills the air around them, and Ana studies the doctor under her watchful eye. She watches the way her ponytail sways as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other and the way her fingers twitch, there is something she won't say.

"Why are you really here, Angela." 

The hairs at Angela's nape bristle, her pale skin does nothing to help the blood rushing to her cheeks. She knows that avoidance will not work on Ana. Instead she chooses to be honest, the worst that could happen was that they'd just keep ignoring her, right? 

"I want to watch." She blurts out. Disgust flashes across Ana's features, would have gone unnoticed by most but Angela catches it, and she wishes she could die right on the spot. 

It's gone the moment it's the there, though, and Ana shifts, eyebrows furrowed. The more time that passes between them multiplies the intensity of which Angela wishes for death. Eventually, finally, Ana gives her an answer. 

"I will consider it." Is all she says, not waiting for Angela's response as she backs up into her room, closing the door with her.

The following days are relatively normal. Teammates come to her office seeking medical attention or advice, and Ana continues to refuse looking at her. Instead now her mind swarms with the possibility of receiving a private show. Most of what people say to her turns fuzzy, and if she's been slow at responding no one's seemed to mention it.

And then Fareeha returns from Cape Town with the rest of her crew. Angela watches them file out of the aircraft one by one from a distance. Considering Ana is there to great them and Fareeha's avoidance she assumes it would be best to give them space. From afar she watches Ana kiss her daughter on the cheek, and she says something to her that makes her flustered. She speaks back to her with a hand rubbing her neck and a funny smile on her face. 

Angela tenses when Ana takes Fareeha by the arm and silently ushers her towards her silently. Fareeha appears apprehensive, looks to her mother for assistance but isn't met with one as Ana stares Angela down. 

They walk past her, but a nudge to Angela's shoulder as they pass is enough of a hint and she follows them, stomach flipping as she tries to hide the skip in her step. Every once and a while Fareeha turns her head to look at the doctor with nervous curiosity.

The three reach Fareeha's private quarters. It is the farthest away from any other residual barracks, and Fareeha's silent questions are quickly answered when the door is secured shut and her mother is helping her undress, bright blue eyes watching intently. 

"Mom..." She says, hushed, concerned. Ana shushes her, assists with dismantling her heavy armor and placing the pieces to their designated spots among it's resting frame. Now Fareeha stands in her under armor, vulnerable. She shifts in place, avoiding Angela's wide eyes. 

Ana kicks the chair at her desk towards Angela. "Sit."

Angela sits. 

A deft hand takes hold of the side zipper of Fareeha's under armor and looks into her daughter's eyes. When she speaks she does so with unwavering tenderness, but with a pinch of authority, like a mother would. Already Angela is squirming in her seat with just the way Ana speaks. "Will you be a good girl for me?"

The reaction is immediate, Fareeha's cheeks bloom with color, the brown of her eyes dwindle with the black of her irises engulfing them. She gives one last uncertain glance to the doctor before looking back to her mother. In return her voice is small, unsure, but trustful. "Yes, mother." 

Then the recognizable sound of a zipper resonates throughout the otherwise quiet room. Angela leans in as inch by inch the under armor loosens, eventually drooping and falling to the floor. Fareeha steps out of it, now left in just her underwear. It's nothing flashy, standard military grade, if she had known her mother would be on her the moment she came back she would've at least considered wearing something lace underneath all that armor. 

Ana coos little nothings to Fareeha, encouraging her to lie down on the bed. She does so, but her nerves don't go unnoticed, she's gripping the sheets, eyes warily watching their visitor. Ana climbs on top of her and cups a hand to her cheek to move her focus elsewhere, attempting to ease her with a tender kiss.

A moment passes but Fareeha kisses back. The kiss is short lived, Angela's thighs squeeze when Fareeha is leaning forward, not wanting the kiss to end and a whine leaving her throat. When she looks to Ana she is looking back. 

"You will not touch me or my daughter, you will remain in that chair unless I tell you to move." Her possessiveness towards her daughter shoots a spike of arousal through Angela, and she nods without a word.

Ana seems pleased by her answer, turns her attention back to Fareeha who already is worked up, every touch causing her muscles to twitch. One hand traces the outline of her abs, the other firm flat against her hipbone to still her stuttering hips.

"You aren't always this eager." Ana laughs, earning a huff from Fareeha, embarrassed. "Does having an audience excite you, habibti?"

Angela watches intently, savoring every little noise Ana pulls from her daughter. Already heat pools between her legs, feels it stain her panties. She doesn't touch herself, not yet. She wants to observe all of it, wants to remember every moment in case she never gets a chance like this again. 

Brown, now almost completely black eyes catch her gaze, Fareeha looks at her, face flushed and a sweat beginning to build at her forehead. Angela's breath catches in her throat, anticipation builds within her.

"Yes," Fareeha says, breath hitching when her mother's hand travels north, underneath her bra and greedily groping a breast. "I like being watched, momma."

Angela swallows thickly, spit threatening to spill past her lips. The notion should embarrass her, but she is far past shame. Ana shoves Fareeha's bra up and away from her breasts, stares at them appreciatively before taking both into her hands, squeezing the soft flesh.

Now Fareeha moves her hands, first flat on her mother's thighs, moves up to Ana's shirt and tugs on in, whines for her to take it off. Ana complies with a laugh, hands leaving Fareeha entirely to take the hem of her shirt and lift it up. Fareeha palms up her sides as more skin is revealed. 

Angela hopes that her gasp goes unheard. Ana had forgone wearing a bra, her breasts now out on display, drooping from age but still just as beautiful as Angela remembered them years ago. Clearly her age doesn't effect Fareeha's attraction towards her either, eager hands reaching to brush tender thumbs to her hardening nipples. Ana hums, closes her eyes and oh, she moves her hips and Fareeha groans, bucking back into her and Angela is sure she's dripping past the fabric of her pants now. Subconsciously her hand darts between her legs and she shamelessly humps against her fingers.

The friction of Fareeha's underwear along with Ana's jeans is dizzying against her core. Her back arches and her legs spread making room for Ana to sit between them, and the two share of a moment of sensuality as Ana leans down fully pressing herself against Fareeha as they rutted together. 

Despite her age Ana displays dominating strength as she pushes Fareeha into the mattress. Lips place sloppy kisses to Fareeha's neck, and she cranes her neck for better access, eyes shut as she wraps her arms around her mother's neck and moans. The noise reverberates straight to Angela's cunt, and if it weren't for Fareeha's strangled gasps Angela's own whines would fill the air. 

Clearly Ana enjoys the sounds as well, invigorates her ministrations, moving from bucks to a languid grind that leaves Fareeha reeling. Hot breath puffs against Fareeha's neck and a hand moves between them, low down till fingers press to her wet folds. They push against her clit and Fareeha throws her head back, presses the side of her face against a pillow. It tousles her hair, stray strands fall on her face. With her head turned her focus is now to the doctor, gaze landing on the hand between her quivering legs. 

Then she looks up and locks eyes with Angela. Her eyes are hazy and she can see that Angela struggles to keep them open, but she does still, doesn't wish to take her eyes off the scene before her. It's undoubtedly arousing, heightens the sensation of her mother's hand on her aching core, more so by the fact that it's her mother.

After some time their relationship became less stress inducing. Obviously they had to still remain a secret, couldn't openly share affection unless it appeared familial rather than sexual. But now all those taboo feelings resurfaced as blue eyes watched them so intently, that Angela was so turned on by her and her mother having sex. 

She's whipped out her thoughts as two deft fingers bully her clit, rubs it in circles and figure eights and she mewls, eyes shut tight, and though her mind is fuzzy from the pleasure Ana's voice is crystal clear. 

"Tell Angela how much you want me to fuck you." 

It's now that Angela's gasp is audible, she's stopped her actions to focus all her attention to Fareeha, waiting for an answer. Ana has stopped all movement as well, refusing Fareeha of her touch and she whines and squirms, still Ana does not touch her, waits for an answer. 

Now that her arousal is dwindling she's desperate for her mother to continue. Words are hard to come by, more so by the fact her mother presses fully against her everywhere but where she needs her, overwhelming, but her mother is patient with her, apparently Angela as well, neither act until she speaks.

Her first attempt is a measly hoarse breath, but trying again she finds her words. "I need you so bad. Please fuck me, momma." 

Angela's groan seems to be the catalyst. Two fingers are pushing into her entrance, her heels dig into the mattress Ana presses against her to calm her bucking hips. Then those fingers curl, knuckle deep, and her head tosses side to side, the beads in her hair clink together. Trying to hide her moans is deemed unneccessary as a hot mouth claims hers, swallowing her howls as she pumps into her, hips moving along with her fingers to amplify the sensation and now not even Ana's strength can keep Fareeha's hips still. 

Then a palm is to her clit, and splashes of white erupt against her eyelids and already she is cumming, velvet walls contracting against her mother's fingers. From the sound of it Angela has cum too, sitting at the edge of her seat and pushing her weight to the tips of her toes. Ana continues to pump into her, using her now oversensative nerves to push her through a second orgasm. It comes as fast the first, and once the waves are ridden and her vision has cleared she registers her mother whispering praises to her and kissing along her jaw. Her eyelids droop, her exhaustion returning from a mission now more nagging than ever. She's nearly passed out, almost doesn't hear her mother speak to Angela.

"Angela, please give us privacy."

Instantly Angela is to her feet, almost falls as she regains her posture on shaky legs. In the light it is clear that she is positively drenched, the thin material of her pants soaked through the crotch. Luckily for her it is late into the night and only those who knew to look would see. She does her best to leave as quietly as possible, opening the door just enough to squeeze through and leaving the two alone. 

Angela can only hope this won't be the last time.


End file.
